


Five and One

by EntrancedPigeon



Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: Cliche, Fluff and Mush, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-09-21 13:36:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9551333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntrancedPigeon/pseuds/EntrancedPigeon
Summary: Full of cliches and mush and whump!Chapter One: Five times they kissed and one time they didn't.Chapter Two: Five times Tasha was cuffed, and one time she was cuffed to Reade.Chapter Three: Five times Tasha was sick, and one time she wasn't.





	1. Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times they kissed, and one time they didn't.

**1.**

"Reade, Zapata, get out of there, he's headed your way!" Zapata heard Patterson's frantic call through the earpiece.

"I'm almost done," Reade replied, eyes still focused on installing the bugged hard drive in the computer. "Ten more seconds."

"We don't have ten seconds Reade," Zapata pulled him away from the computer, and out of the study. "Where is he, Patterson?"

"5 feet from the door," she answered quickly. "4, 3..." Zapata searched the room quickly, looking for a hiding spot. Spotting none, she pulled Reade again, walking to the wall.

"He's at the door!" Patterson yelled. "Do something!"

Tasha's back suddenly hit the wall and she shifted her arms, pulling Reade flush against her.

"Kiss me," she muttered, her face right next to Reade's.

"What!?" Reade asked, incredulous, attempting to put some space between his partner.

Tasha sighed and pulled him again, standing on her toes and kissing him. Barely a second later, the door flew open.

"Hey!" Someone shouted from the door. "What are you doing?" Reade broke off the kiss and turned to face the door.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he cried, hands up in surrender. "Please don't shoot. We were just looking for somewhere quiet!"

The guard took in Tasha's mussed hair, and their rumpled clothes. "You can't be in here," the guard said. "Get out." The pair nodded, and Reade grabbed Zapata's hand, pulling her with him as they exited the room. They hurried down the hallway and back into the party before they let out a sigh of relief.

"Let's not cut it that close ever again," Tasha said, fixing her hair once Reade released her hand. He nodded, straightening his tie.

"Never again."

* * *

 

**2.**

"Tasha are you alright?" Reade walked past his partners' desk, almost doing a double take when he saw her practically passed out on her keyboard. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, and she shot upright.

"What?" She asked, blearily looking around, one hand coming up to wipe her nose.

"I asked if you were okay," Reade repeated himself when Tasha finally looked at him. She just blinked. "Clearly the answer to that is no."

Reade reached for her bag, placing the open files on her desk inside before spinning her chair around to face him.

"Come on," he offered his hand. "Let's get you home."

"I'm fine," Tasha argued, doing her best but failing to hide a cough. Reade grabbed her wrist and pulled her to her feet, where she swayed unsteadily.

"Yeah," Reade replied sarcastically, as he pulled her to his desk. "Fine." He quickly packed his bag, keeping one eye on Zapata, ensuring she wasn't going to fall. Passing Weller's office on the way to the elevator, Reade looked inside, but it was empty.

"I'll call him once we get you home," he assured the slightly worried looking Tasha.

Half an hour later, Reade had managed to navigate the nearly gridlocked streets of New York and made it to Tasha's apartment. She had barely lasted five minutes into the drive, and was now passed out against his passenger window. Reade pulled their bags from the back seat before gently shaking Tasha's shoulder again.

"C'mon Tasha," he shook a bit harder when she didn't move. "You gotta wake up for me." The best response he could get was a groan, so he sighed and moved to the other side of the car. He carefully opened the door, half catching his only semi-conscious partner, before pulling her into the apartment building.

"Where are your keys, Tasha?" She mumbled something incoherent, so Reade was forced to search her bag. He finally located them ("There's a lot of crap in here, Tash...") and opened the door.

Manuvering them inside, he carried Tasha into her room, and carefully placed her on the bed. He headed to the bathroom, locating some flu meds before filling a cup with water and returning. She still hadn't moved. Reade pulled her into a seated position and brushed some hair out of her eyes.

"Tasha," her eyes slowly blinked open this time. "I need you to take these," he said, putting the pills into her hand. She obliged, also drinking most of the water he offered. Her eyes slowly closed again, so Reade repositioned the pillows underneath her. He pulled her shoes off and covered her with her blanket. As he was about to pull it over her shoulders, Tasha's hand shot out and caught his, pulling him down to her, and she kissed him. She dropped his hand, and Reade looked down, but she had fallen asleep again.

Reade pulled the blanket up, then left the room and dropped onto her couch, flicking the TV on.

Sometime the next day, Tasha emerged from her room, blanket draped over her shoulders, confusion plasted across her face.

"Reade?" She mumbled when she spotted him passed out on her couch. She walked over to him, and sat down near his feet. "Reade," she said again, shaking his feet. He shot up, almost kicking Tasha off the couch.

"Hey," Reade finally got his bearings back. "How are you feeling?"

"What happened?" Tasha asked instead.

"You were sick at work. I brought you home." Tasha blinked.

"And decided to crash on my couch?"

"You were pretty out of it," Reade said as he stood and stretched. "I wanted to make sure you were alright, and took some medicine."

"I don't remember anything since Tuesday." Reade frowned. "Not even going to work on Wednesday?" She shook her head. "When I woke you up to take meds?" Shook her head again.

"Guess I was pretty out of it," she joked, standing up. "Want some coffee?" She moved around the back of the couch and into the kitchen. Reade ran a hand across his lips. "Reade? Coffee?"

"Yeah, coffee would be great," he said, dropping back onto the couch with a sigh.

* * *

 

**3.**

"Alright guys, time to call it." Patterson groaned the loudest when Tasha cut them off.

"But we're having so much fun," she slurred, staggering over to the agent. Zapata caught her, just, and set her down on the couch.

"Clearly," Tasha muttered, as Patterson immediately passed out. She looked around the room at the other FBI Agents, all very, very drunk. Jane and Reade had passed out a while ago, and Zapata had managed to manuver them to the inflatable mattress she had set up in a moment of genius thinking. Borden had disappeared about an hour ago to take a phone call, but never returned. Had Tasha been slightly more sober, and less sleep deprived, she might have considered checking on him. As it was, she spotted Reade staggering into the kitchen, empty bottles of beer in his hands.

"Ed," she called after him, following him to the kitchen. "I'll do it," she said. "You're too drunk to be holding that much glass."

"I'm fine," he replied, nearly falling over his feet as he turned. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll do it," she said again, taking the bottles from him. "Go and sit down for me, yeah?" Tasha heard him moving when she turned, so assumed he had done as she suggested. Moments later though, a heavy weight crashed into her, and she fell, bottles going with her.

Tasha winced at the sound of breaking glass, and again from the combined pain of a piece of glass piercing her arm, as well as the solid weight of Reade on top of her. She looked up to see Reade grinning drunkenly at her.

"Do you mind?" She asked, gesturing with one hand at their current predicament. Reade just grinned again before leaning down and kissing her. Using her free hand, she managed to push at Reade's chest, hard enough to seperate them. He finally rolled off her, and Tasha managed to get to her feet.

She offered her non bleeding hand to Reade and pulled him up, supporting most of his body weight as she moved him to her spare room. She dropped him (somewhat unceremoniously) onto the bed, and turned the light out.

Heading back into the kitchen, Tasha finally managed to get a look at the blood trailing down her arm. Wincing again, she decided there was no glass in the wound, and she one handedly wrapped it with a bandage from her first aid kit. She quickly swept the glass from the floor and put it in the bin, before she locked her apartment, turned out all the lights and went to her own room.

As she changed into her pyjamas, she smiled briefly when she remembered the dopey smile Reade had been sporting all night. _Maybe it wasn't so bad being the least drunk , person sometimes_ she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

She was certainly agreeing with that thought early the next morning when their phones rung, alerting them to an urgent case. She was not jealous of their hangovers.

* * *

 

**4.**

"You know, if you want to pass geometry, you actually need to show up." Tasha rolled her eyes as she wandered in to the library, dropping her bag and flopping into the chair.

"See the thing is, Edgar, I don't really care about geometry." Reade rolled his eyes.

"That's not my problem,"

"Actually, I heard it is." Reade shot her a look. "You mean, I wasn't supposed to find out that the football star was on probation? And that he has to help the problem student or he'll be off the team?" Reade scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Look," he said, turning to look at Tasha. She had a pencil in her hand, chewing on one end. "I'm on probation because I did something stupid at practice. I need a scholarship to get out of this town. To get a scholarship, I need to play football." Tasha rolled her eyes. "You may not care about geometry, or school, or anything," Tasha shot Reade a look this time. "But please, for me, help me out." Tasha sighed.

"Fine," she groaned, pulling a notebook from her bag. "But don't expect me to be on time." Reade nodded.

"I can work with that."

 

Eight weeks later, Tasha wandered into the library, much like she had two months ago, and slid into a chair next to Reade. She dumped her notebook on the table and dropped her head onto it.

"That bad?" Reade asked, sighing. Tasha didn't reply. "That's fine," Reade assured her, "We can keep working. I've got three weeks left if I have any hope for game time this season. Get your book out." Tasha ignored him and blindly groped for a piece of paper in her bag. Eventually finding it, she shoved it in his face, sitting up.

"Tasha, what is this?" He asked, pulling it away and looking at it properly. "A 94?" Reade shouted, incredulous. "You got a 94?"

"I should be offended that you're this shocked." Tasha deadpanned.

"Tasha Zapata, I could kiss you right now."

"Please don't," Tasha frowned, leaning away. Reade leant back in his chair, smiling at the paper. "Ed," Tasha said, snapping him from his trance. "Go to practice. Get your scholarship." Reade stood up and packed his books, pulling Tasha into a hug.

"You're kinda ruining my image here Ed." He coughed and stepped away.

"Right. Sorry," he mumbled, looking at his feet.

"Practice?" Tasha reminded him. "Right, yeah," Reade said as he began jogging. "You're amazing, Tash!"

* * *

 

"Hey, so I heard you got a scholarship?" Reade turned at the familiar voice behind him. He grinned when he spotted Tasha leaning against the locker next to him.

"I did, sorta," he said. "Columbia." Tasha grinned.

"You nerd." Reade just laughed.

"You know, if you keep working hard, you could go to college somewhere too." Tasha laughed.

"Nah, I'm good." Reade smiled.

"Well," he started, looking around the emptying hallways. "It's been nice knowing you, Zapata."

"Have fun in college," Reade nodded.

"If you're ever in New York," he said, "come see me?" Tasha smiled again, and Reade leaned in.

"There's no one around," he fake whispered conspiratorily, glancing around the hallway. "Can I hug you?" He didn't give her a chance to respond before he wrapped her in a hug. She pulled away slightly.

"I'm really happy for you," she smiled up at him. Reade looked down, and leaned down, kissing her. When he pulled away, she smiled again.

"See you around, Ed." She slipped something into his hand and walked away.

"See ya, Tasha," he called after her, grinning when he found a slip of paper with her phone number on it. He looked back up and watched her walk down the hallway and disappear into a room before he emptied his locked and walked out of the school for the last time.

* * *

 

**5.**

(Scenes from 2.10/11)

"You should put your leg up," Tasha told him, picking up a pillow.

"You need to quit fussing over me, I'm okay." He assured her. The doctors had cleared him, and he'd be back at work in a few days once the painkillers had cleared his system.

"Hey, macho man," Tasha ignored him. "Put your leg up." She dropped the pillow on the coffee table in front of him, and gave him a pointed look.

"You would've made a hell of a nurse," Reade told her. Tasha laughed, and Reade smiled at her. All he had been trying to do the past few days was reassure her that he was fine. It seemed she had finally accepted that.

"You hungry?" She asked him, positioning herself next to him on the couch.

"I can make my own cup of noodles." Back to reassuring it was then.

"Okay," she sarcastically replied, reminding him with a look that he wasn't supposed to stand on his leg too much, even if it was fine. "Will you just - just relax," she told him, leaning in and pushing him into a more relaxed position on the couch. She looked at him, and in that moment, Reade only saw the care she had for him - the only woman who actually knew what he went through at work every day, knew what he had been through in the past few months.

"Put your leg up, please." She continued. But Reade cut her off, leaning in quickly and kissing her.

His leg twinged painfully (not that he'd tell Tasha) and he leant back quickly, searching her face. She frowned, and Reade's stomach dropped.

"What are you doing?" She asked, looking away for a second before looking back at him, eyes questioning him.

"What's it look like?" He replied. Tasha just frowned again.

"You're my best friend."

"Exactly." Reade told her. "You know me better than anyone else." He frowned slightly, realising that maybe she didn't follow his reasoning. "It makes sense, Tasha."

"We're friends," Tasha said after a moment. "That's all." She watched him carefully, her decision made. Reade looked down and frowned again. After a few moments, he leaned back, sighing. "I'm going to go," Tasha said quickly, standing awkwardly to leave.

Reade watched her leave, and after hearing the door shut, closed his eyes and sighed at the pain in his leg, and now in his heart.

* * *

 

"Hey," Tasha called when she walked into the office, spotting Reade back in his suit, sitting at his desk. "Welcome back."

"Hey," Reade stood as she approached. "You feeling back to normal?" Tasha asked, not just referring to his leg.

'"Pretty much." They both just nodded for a moment. "What'd I miss?"

Not much," Tasha replied. "Turns out Borden's a mole, Jane's brother's a prisoner downstairs, and they caught that rat in the locker room." Tasha folded her arms, finally making eye contact with Reade.

"They caught my boy Whitey Bolger?" Reade asked, trying to get a smile out of her. It worked. Sort of. After another moment, Reade sighed. "Tasha I was on pain meds, my head was cloudy." She didn't quite let him finish, grimacing when he brought it up.

"I know, I know." She avoided eye contact again for a moment. "We're cool, right?"

"Hundred percent," Reade assured her. He had been thinking about it for the past few days and honestly couldn't figure out why he had tried to kiss her anyway. It had to have been the pain meds. Tasha didn't seem to believe him.

"Alright, I'm gonna go check on Patterson," Zapata told him, turning to leave.

"I gotta catch up on these files," Reade said at the same time.

They stared at each other briefly before Tasha simply turned away. Reade looked at his feet. This was going to take some fixing.

* * *

**+1**

"Guys?" Patterson called over the earpieces, receiving only static in response. "Guys, what's going on?"

Meanwhile in the "abandoned" warehouse, Weller, Jane, Reade and Zapata had split up, opting to search the area faster because of the lingering bomb threat. Jane had walked through the back of the warehouse, and finally spotted the bomb.

"Guys, I've found it," she said, touching a hand to her ear to active the earpiece. Hearing nothing in response, she tried again. "Weller? Reade? Anyone?" Jane frowned and carefully walked toward the bomb, looking for a timer. It still had four minutes on the countdown. Frowning, Jane took one last look at the bomb and ran from the room.

Weller was closest, she figured. Warn him, then find Reade and Zapata. It took 47 seconds (she was counting) until she literally ran into Kurt.

"Bomb," she gasped out. "Just over three minutes left." Weller nodded.

"Go find Zapata," he told her, pointing in the direction the other female agent had been sent to search. "I'll find Reade." Jane nodded, and took off again.

She ran through the whole area Zapata had been sent to cover, but found nothing.

"Zapata?" Jane finally yelled. There was only 90 seconds left on the clock. "Tasha?"

"In here," a voice responded. Jane hurried over and found Tasha pushing herself off the ground, blood trickling from a cut over her eye. "Asshole snuck up on me," she said, gesturing to the unconscious body next to her. "What's going on?"

"There's a bomb in the building. We have less than a minute to get out of here." Zapata nodded. "Are you okay to run?"

"Fine," Zapata waved off Jane's concern. "Closest exit is that way." Zapata pointed in the direction of a side entry they had spotted on the blueprints before they infiltrated. Jane and Zapata hurried to the door, pulling it open at the same time as the bomb went off.

A shockwave sent debris flying everywhere, knocking into the unprepared agents. Jane flew forward, crashing hard into the concrete floor outside the building. Tasha was thrown sideways, debris smashing into her as the walls of the decrepit building fell.

As Tasha felt something crunch into the back of her skull for the second time in less than 5 minutes, she vaguely heard someone calling her name. She couldn't figure out where it was coming from, and soon she simply passed out.

* * *

 

"Sir, please, calm down." A thin, wiry doctor dressed in green scrubs pushed Reade away from him.

"Is she okay?" Reade asked again, stepping closer to the doctor. At this point, Weller intervened, placing himself between Reade and the somewhat concerned smaller man.

"Agent Zapata will be fine," the doctor started, experience telling him that it was the most important piece of information. "She has a severe concussion, fractured ribs which caused a punctured lung and a broken arm, but she will be fine." The doctor turned to Kurt when Reade had finally stepped away. "Miss Doe is also recovering nicely. A fractured wrist, a concussion and lots of scrapes and brusies, but she will be fine."

"Can we see them?" Reade asked, calmer then he had been in hours. The doctor nodded.

"Miss Doe will be discharged in a few minutes, you can wait here for her." Kurt nodded his thanks. "Agent Zapata will need to remain here at least overnight, possibly for another day. She's asleep at the moment, but you may see her. Ask that nurse," the doctor pointed at a red headed nurse down the hall, "for her room."

Reade stepped toward the doctor and offered his hand. The doctor took it, and Reade shook it.

"Thank you Doc." The doctor nodded, and turned to leave.

* * *

 

The red headed nurse had taken Reade straight to Tasha's room.

"If either of you need anything, please, let me know." She told him as she left him at the door. Reade nodded his thanks. He took a deep breath, and stepped in. Reade didn't want to ever see Tasha looking this way again. She had a stitched cut under her eyebrow, bruising all over her face, and a puffy, split lip. Her left arm was in a sling, a white cast peeking out from under it. Reade could see tubes snaking around her ribs, but couldn't face seeing what they were doing.

Instead, he dragged a chair from the other side of the room and sat down next to her, pulling her good hand between his.

"I'm so sorry, Tasha," he told her sleeping form. "We shouldn't have split up. You said it was a bad idea." Reade sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

A while later, Reade couldn't really tell how much later, he heard a whisper coming from his partner.

"Are you crying?" Reade's head shot up, and he might have teared up slightly when he saw his partner looking back at him.

"No," he denied, placing a hand on her cheek. "How are you feeling?" Tasha grinned at him.

"Oh, excellent," she told him. "I love morphine." Reade laughed, and so did Tasha, but she immediately tensed up when it sent sharp pains through her ribs.

"What's the verdict?" She asked Reade, her mood suddenly dampened.

"Concussion, broken ribs, punctured lung and broken arm." Tasha pulled a face. "But you'll live."

"And Jane?" Reade shook his head. "She's fine. You took the worst hit." Tasha nodded.

"Certainly feels like it." She looked back at Reade. "You guys were out of the building?" Reade nodded, until Tasha gestured to his face.

"Just debris," he told her. "Nothing serious." Tasha nodded again, and attempted to shift positions on the lumpy hospital bed. Reade placed a hand on her shoulders to still her.

"Don't move," he told her, preventing her from causing herself too much pain. Tasha gazed up at him, and he moved a hand back to her cheek.

"I'm glad you're okay, Ed," she told him, moving her hand to pat the one on her cheek.

"Me too," he said. "I'm gonna get your nurse, yeah?" Tasha nodded her thanks, and Reade swept some hair from her face. "Be back in a minute."

Tasha's head rolled to the side, and she smiled as she watched him leave.

 


	2. Cuffed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times Tasha was cuffed, and One time she was cuffed to Reade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I posted this months ago, but apparently not... 
> 
> Not as much Tasha and Reade in this one (except for the last one), but Tasha is my favourite, so lots of her! Also I didn’t really proof because I couldn’t bring myself to do it after struggling to get it written in the first place. Let me know if you see any errors, and I’ll fix it.
> 
> Please leave a review, and as always, let me know if you have any prompts, or even feel free to message me if you just want to talk Blindspot! 
> 
> Enjoy!

1\. 

Tasha pushed the door to the store open, quietly stepping inside. Her hood covered her face and she kept her head down. She didn’t need anyone asking any questions today. 

Wandering around the store, she subtly pulled small tins of food off the shelf, sliding them into her pockets, praying the person at the counter wouldn’t notice her. Through the window, she spotted someone walking toward the store so she made her move, sliding a loaf of bread off the shelf and walking to the door. The person had just stepped through when she reached the door, and Tasha slid past as smoothly as she could. 

“Evening officer,” the store clerk called out, looking up at the worst possible time. Tasha froze momentarily. “Hey, stop!” The clerk had spotted her, and Tasha immediately took off. She heard the door open again behind her, and she chanced a look over her shoulder as she sprinted. 

“Hey, kid,” Tasha kept running, ignoring the fact it was a cop chasing her. “Stop running!” The cop sounded like he was struggling to breathe, and Tasha grinned. Maybe she had gotten away this time. Glancing backwards one more time, Tasha grinned again. The cop had stopped running and was doubled over, hands on his knees. She rounded the corner and let out a laugh. She had made it, and she had food.

Not willing to risk being spotted, Tasha kept jogging down the street until a car pulled out right in front of her. Tasha swore when she hit the car and then the road. She groaned, staying on the ground clutching at her knee.

“Put your hands up, slowly,” Tasha heard the door of the car opening, and the voice that followed. Cracking an eye open, Tasha peered up at the person standing above her. 

“Evening officer,” Tasha repeated the friendly greeting of the store clerk from before. The officer only raised his eyebrow before he bent down and dragged Tasha to her feet, pushing her roughly against the car. 

“Calm down,” Tasha muttered, wincing at the contact with the car. 

“I guess I don’t have to ask where you got these from,” the officer said, pulling the tins of food from her pockets. The officer pulled Tasha’s wrists behind her back, and cuffed them. “You’re under arrest for shoplifting,” Tasha let her head fall against the car while the officer patted her down. He pulled her wallet from her pocket, searching for ID. “Natasha Zapata, where are your parents?” The officer reached for her shoulder and spun her around. Tasha kept her eyes fixed on the ground, not talking. The officer remained quiet for a few moments too. 

“What happened to your face?” Tasha refused to look up until the officer put a hand on her shoulder. She met his eyes, and for the first time in a while, she saw someone who was actually worried about her. She still didn’t answer. “Natasha? Who did this?” 

“It’s Tasha,” she said, finally. “And it’s nothing.” The cop frowned. 

“A black eye and split lip doesn’t look like nothing to me.” Tasha looked down again until he sighed. “Look,” he started. “It’s been a long shift. How about I uncuff you and pretend this never happened.” Tasha frowned and looked back up. 

“Why would you do that?” 

“Because I don’t think locking you up is going to help anyone.” The cop turned Tasha around and uncuffed her wrists. Tasha turned to face him slowly, rubbing her wrists. “Get in the car,” Tasha frowned again. 

“I thought you weren’t going to arrest me?” Tasha stepped away from the car, ready to run again. 

“I’m not,” he told her as he slid into the drivers seat. “I’m hungry, and there’s a diner down the road, so get in.”

2\. 

Tasha shuffled on the spot in a fruitless attempt to stay warm, despite the heat radiating from her partner’s arm, carelessly slung across her shoulders. 

“Zapata are you sure you two aren’t actually dating? You look pretty cosy there.” A voice crackled through the tiny earpiece in her left ear. 

“Got to hell,” she mumbled in return, the equally tiny microphone hidden under a button picking up her words. In response, she heard the laughter of her boss and a few other detectives in the surveillance van just down the street. Using her free hand, she pulled her woolly hat further over her ears. “Will you knock already?” She asked her partner, Detective Munoz. He turned and winked at her, and they stepped closer to the door. Munoz knocked, and after a moment, it cracked open. 

“What do you want?” 

“Yeah uh,” Munoz started, now committed to his junky persona. “Tommy Estrada told me to come here if I ever wanted to buy some stuff.” The dealer still mostly hidden behind the door remained silent for a moment. 

“Tommy’s in jail. You a cop?” Munoz shook his head, pulling Tasha further into his chest. 

“Just got out three days ago,” he told the dealer. “Me and my girl just want to have some fun.” Munoz planted a kiss on Tasha’s forehead, and from her position, tucked under his arm, she stood on her toes and kissed him just under his ear. The dealer didn’t respond immediately, but after a moment, he spoke again. 

“You got cash?” He asked, stepping slightly further out from behind the door. Munoz nodded and patted his pocket. A moment later, the door swung open. “Get in. Hurry up.” Not releasing Tasha from under his arm, Munoz stepped toward the door, Tasha moving with him. 

When they were inside, the dealer latched the door closed behind them, then pointed to a couch. 

“Wait here.” Tasha and Munoz moved over to the couch and sat, Tasha interlacing their fingers together on her thigh. While they waited, Tasha heard voices crackling through her earpiece again. 

“Zapata, Munoz, we’re in position. Call us in for the takedown when you’ve made the deal.” Tasha nodded slightly in acknowledgement, and Munoz did the same. Moments later, Tasha heard footsteps moving through the house. Twisting herself closer to Munoz, she switched their locked hands, and draped one arm over his shoulder, replacing their interlaced fingers with her other hand. Tilting his head toward her, Tasha kissed Munoz, ignoring the joking exclamations coming though the earpiece. 

“No sex on the couch, guys,” the dealer called as he walked back in the room, causing Tasha and Munoz to separate, if only slightly. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, and his eyes were darting around the room. “Give me the cash and I’ll set you up.” Munoz reached into his pocket and pulled out the wad of cash. He tossed it to the dealer who caught it easily, counting the bills while Munoz turned back to Tasha and continued kissing her. The dealer coughed, and pulled a powder filled bag from his pocket. He tossed it to Munoz who ignored it for a moment, but allowing Tasha to break their kiss long enough to mutter quietly. 

“Go for takedown,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss Munoz one more time. When they separated, he picked up the bag and shoved it into his pocket, then stood abruptly, pulling Tasha to her feet. They crossed the room to the door and the dealer unlatched it for them. Just as Munoz moved to pull it open, the door flew open on its own, and the takedown team hurried through the door. 

“Hands up,” they shouted, pointing their weapons at the two detectives and the dealer. In the distance, Tasha could hear the back door of the house receiving the same treatment. 

Tasha played her part well, clinging to Munoz until one of the cops pulled them apart, and roughly pushed her to the ground. “You’re under arrest,” the cop said, pulling her hands behind her back and cuffing them together. Going through the motions, he searched the undercover Detective, then pulled her to her feet again. Tasha protested, trying her hardest to not let them walk her out the door. Eventually, the team put Tasha, Munoz and the dealer in the back of a van, and headed to the precinct. 

Half an hour later, Tasha’s hands were still cuffed, and the dealer had been dragged from his adjacent holding cell into interrogation. The only other occupied cell held Detective Munoz, so Tasha called out. 

“Hey, Simpson,” she caught the attention of the booking officer. “You gonna let us out yet?” Simpson looked up from the computer and grinned, picking up his keys and walking towards the cells. 

“I thought you guys were enjoying being locked up,” the officer laughed as he unlocked Tasha’s cell, and she turned around to let him free her hands. Officer Simpson left Tasha to repeat the process with her partner, and when Tasha stepped out of the cell, her boss walked into holding. 

“Detective Zapata, Munoz,” the Sergeant Michaels called out. “Great work today. The dealer just confessed to that murder we had him pegged for.” Munoz had fallen into place next to Zapata, and dropped his arm over her shoulder, mimicking his actions from earlier that day. 

“It was our pleasure,” Tasha assured him. “That girl deserved justice for her death.” Munoz silently nodded his agreement from beside her. 

“Take tomorrow off,” Michaels told them. “Get some rest.” Tasha nodded her thanks, suddenly too tired to argue. Michaels turned and left, leaving Tasha and Munoz on their own. 

“Good job Zapata,” Munoz said, turning her to face him. “Was good to work with you again.” Tasha grinned in return. 

“I haven’t done a sting like that since just after we got out of the academy,” she mused out loud. Shrugging Munoz’ arm off her shoulders, she headed toward the lockers. “Come on Munoz, I’ll give you a ride home.” 

3\. 

Tasha paused her attempts to free herself when the goon in front of her stepped threateningly close. She stared up at him until he stepped back. Moments later, she heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs and she looked directly at the source as he approached. He had a file in his hand which he held up next to Tasha. 

“Did anyone besides me even read her file?” Maxwell Tate dropped the file, shifting his gaze to Zapata. “Does this even look like the same girl to you?” He lifted his hand, and stroked his cheek. “Who are you? You with the feds? Hmm?” Loathing the feeling of this excuse of a man’s hand on her skin, Tasha spat in his face. He just laughed, and tapped her nose. 

One of the goons in the room spoke up. “She’s been here for an hour already. Whoever she’s working with won’t be far behind.” Tate stood abruptly and stepped past him, back up the stairs. 

Tasha began to look around the room. She could feel the skin on her wrists rubbing raw. The zip ties they had forced her hands through earlier were already too tight, and her attempts to free herself had only made them worse. Pausing her attempts for a moment, Tasha looked around the room again. There was nothing close to her she could knock over or kick toward herself that would help her free herself, and if she was being honest, she needed a moment to catch her breath after almost being choked out earlier. 

Tasha heard the door to the stairs slam open, and more footsteps. Tasha watched, worried, while all the girls were hurried down the stairs. Tasha pulled at her cuffs again. She looked around the room, all the girls stared at her as they passed.  
Tasha heard the door lock, and a few minutes later, she could feel intense heat through the roof of the basement. Seconds later, she could smell the smoke. 

When she heard the gunshots, ignoring any thoughts of self-preservation she may have had left, Tasha switched to desperation. Tugging at the cuffs one more time, Tasha tightened the plastic cuffs as much as she could, ignoring them cutting further into her wrists. She twisted the cuffs a few times, lining them up, then pulled hard against the post she was cuffed to, feeling immediate relief when the plastic snaps. 

Standing up, Tasha directs the girls to find a way to escape. She needs to save them, needs to find a way out. Suddenly, she spots the loose bars against the window. She works frantically, pulling the bars off and smashing the window. She clears the glass, puts down a blanket and helps the girls climb out. Taking one last look around the room to make sure they’re all safe, before she steps up to climb out. She’s nearly safe, nearly free, but then there’s an explosion.

Frantic now, Tasha heads for the stairs. She pulls at the door, but it’s locked, and there’s too much smoke. She screams, terrified, hoping someone can hear her, will save her. 

A second later, Tasha hears Reade and Weller at the door. It sounds like they’re kicking at it, trying to break it down. Tasha can’t breathe, she closes her eyes, gasping. Then the door opens and Reade is there, pulling her to her feet, they help to drag her out of the house while she tries to choke in some air. They’re three steps out of the door when suddenly there’s an explosion. She hits the floor, the precious air she’d just recovered being knocked from her lungs, but then it’s over.

Reade and Weller help her into the van and take her back to the FBI. When she reaches the locker room, she changes, not stopping long enough to allow herself to inspect the damage to her wrists before she’s moving again, working with Reade to interview Camilla. 

4\. 

The first thing Tasha remembered was the terrifying feeling of feeling nothing. Taking a deep breath, she cracked one eye open. Seeing nothing, Tasha let her other eye open, and rolled her head to the side. She guessed by the smells around the room and the uncomfortable looking chair Reade was sleeping in across from her bed that she was in a hospital. 

Groaning, Tasha tried to raise an arm to her face to wipe the sleep from her eyes. Her limbs felt heavy, and after another attempt, she still couldn’t raise her arm to her head. 

“Reade?” She called out. He didn’t move. “Reade,” she tried again, struggling to make her voice louder. Still nothing. Tasha started to panic now. Her arms wouldn’t move, and as her panic grew, she realised that neither would her legs. “Reade!?” She called out again, her breaths coming faster, hitching in her throat. This time, Reade reacted, being shaken from his sleep. 

“Tasha?” He mumbled, stretching his cramping back. “What’s going on?” His words slurred into a jumble of sounds while all Tasha could do was panic. She felt a tear slide down her cheek, and it was getting harder to breathe. Suddenly, alarms attached to her monitor started going off, and Tasha jumped, breath catching worse than before. At the sharp sound of the alarms, Reade was fully awake, on his feet hand moving to the gun on his hip. 

“Tasha, what’s -” He looked over at his partner, finally realising she was in the throes of a panic attack, and he rushed over to her. Placing a hand on her forearm, Reade tried to calm her down, but to Tasha’s oxygen deprived brain, it just made her panic more. The spike of adrenaline finally allowed her limbs to move. She immediately struggled against Reade’s hand pinning her arm to the bed, arms and legs now flying everywhere. She vaguely heard more people rush into the room, someone try to put something on her face, her hand making contact with something hard, but then it all faded. 

Watching from just inside the doorway, Reade remained silent as the hoarde of nurses and doctors filed out of the room. When there was only one remaining, he finally spoke up.  
“I don’t know what happened,” Reade admitted as the Doctor replaced the charts at the foot of Tasha’s bed. “I woke up, and she was freaking out.” The Doctor nodded. 

“We believe the paralytic wasn’t completely out of her system when she woke,” he assured Reade. “So when she couldn’t move, she panicked.” Reade nodded in return. “You should get that checked out,” he gestured to the gash on Reade’s cheek. He shook his head. 

“No way,” he folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not leaving her.” The Doctor frowned. 

“She’s been sedated,” the Doctor returned. “She’ll be out for a while longer.” Reade shook his head again, and sat back down in his chair. 

“Hey, wait, what are you doing?” Reade was back on his feet in an instant when he saw the Doctor fastening velcro restraints around Tasha’s wrists and ankles. The doctor barely paused to explain. 

“She assaulted you and two of my nurses,” he said as he continued his work. “We can’t risk the same thing happening next time.” Reade shook his head. 

“You just told me she had a panic attack because she couldn’t move, and you think this will be any different?” The Doctor just shook his head. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologised, patting Reade’s shoulder as he stepped past. “It’s protocol. She should be awake soon, I’ll make sure a nurse takes them off as soon as we know she’s stable.” Reade turned and watched the Doctor walk away before moving back to Tasha’s side. He gently tucked a few strands of hair that had fallen across her face back behind her ear, and watched her for a moment more. 

Just as he began to move back to his seat, he saw movement and turned back just in time to watch Tasha again struggle to move while she made sense of her surroundings. As she struggled, thrashing against the velcro restraints, tears escaping from her fear filled eyes, Reade gently put a hand on her shoulder. 

“Tasha,” he started. “You’re okay,” he assured her. After a moment more of thrashing, she looked up to him, and her movements stilled. 

“What’s happening to me?” She asked, tears welling up in her eyes again. Reade knelt next to the bed, moving to her eye level. 

“They said the drugs were still in your system when you woke up earlier, and it caused a panic attack.” Tasha broke their eye contact and her eyes frantically searched the room for a few moments before landing back on his face. 

“What happened to your face?” She asked, hesitantly. Reade just shook his head. 

“Nothing,” he told her. “It’s fine.” Tasha frowned, and pulled at the restraints on her arms again. 

“Can you get me out of these?” She tugged again. “I don’t need them, I’m not crazy or anything.” Reade grinned, and reached down. 

“Some days I have to disagree with that,” he told her as he released her first hand. “Careful,” he told her when her other hand was free. “You’ll pull the IV out.” Tasha rolled her eyes. 

“I’ll be careful,” she promised him. She paused, staring at her hands now wringing themselves together across her stomach. “Did we get the Arcadian?” Reade nodded, while he released her ankles. 

“Weller had to kill him,” he tells a suddenly relieved Zapata. “And we caught Rich and Boston as well.” He put a hand on top of both of hers to still their movements. “Everyone is okay,” he reassured her. Tasha nodded. “They want to keep you for a few more hours, then you’re coming to my place for Pizza and Beer.” Tasha groaned. 

“It better be fresh pizza,” she stared him down. “I’d rather stay here than eat your reheated pizza again.” Reade rolled his eyes back at her. 

“It’s fresh, I promise. And the Jets are playing tonight, so we can get good and drunk when they lose.” Tasha cracked her first real grin of the afternoon. 

“I like the way you think, Partner.”

5\. 

“Wait a second,” Zapata had just turned to leave Patterson’s lab after confirming a lead. 

“What is it?” Tasha turned back when Patterson didn’t continue. A few seconds of frantic typing later, Patterson still hadn’t responded. “Patterson!” Tasha called slightly louder. This snapped her out of her trance. 

“Uuh, there’s a,” Patterson was moving around the lab, still not finishing sentences. Tasha finally caught up to the Agent, stilling her with a hand on both shoulders. “Someone’s trying to break in,” she finally said, moments before the power went out. Half a second later, the room flooded with red light, and the computer screens booted up, lines of code flashing across. 

“Where were they coming in from?” Tasha asked Patterson. 

“The roof.” Tasha nodded, already checking her weapon. 

“Come with me,” Tasha told Patterson. “I’m gonna need your help.” Patterson nodded, picking up her tablet and following Tasha to the door. Tasha put a finger to her lips and Patterson nodded in acknowledgement before Zapata leaned out of the door. She leaned back in and Tasha nodded, and the two stepped into the hallway. 

They were three quarters of the way to the stairwell when the door swung open, and a canister rolled out. Tasha turned back to Patterson. 

“Run,” she whispered, and the two agents hurried back the way they came. Tasha took three steps and stumbled, her legs suddenly weak. Recovering her balance, she only managed another two steps before she fell again, this time unable to move once she hit the floor. Another few seconds, and everything went black. 

LB 

When Tasha woke up, her head felt heavy, and her mouth was dry. Groaning, she turned her head to the side the cold floor soothing her aching cheek. After the heaviness in her head had faded slightly, she cracked open her eyes. Immediately, she spotted Patterson lying next to her, looking relatively unharmed. 

“Patterson?” Tasha mumbled, the sound slurring into an unintelligible noise. Swallowing heavily, she tried again. “Patterson?” This time the noise broke though, and Patterson turned her head toward Zapata. “Are you okay?” A groan escaped from the agent, but she nodded. 

“My head is killing me,” Patterson mumbled. Tasha pushed herself off the floor with one arm, looking around the room. 

“I know how you feel,” she assured Patterson. Spotting nothing in front of her, Tasha tried to push herself into a seated position to get a better look around. But when she moved her right arm, something heavy also moved. Tasha looked back to her arm, spotting the cuff on her wrist, and Patterson’s wrist locked into the other half. Tasha groaned again. 

“Patterson,” her eyes blinked open again, and she focused on Tasha’s face. Tasha pulled their cuffed hands into view of the still groggy blonde. After a moment, Patterson’s eyes shot open and she pulled herself up to Tasha’s eye level. As she began a mini panic attack, Tasha reached down with her free hand to try to release the cuffs. “I really need to keep a key on me,” Tasha mumbled when she failed to get the lock to release. 

“This has happened to you more than once?” Patterson momentarily paused in her freak out, and Tasha looked back up. 

“Well, not this exact situation,” Tasha replied. “But I’ve been cuffed more times than I care to admit.” 

“Wait a second,” Tasha watched Patterson as her mind started working. She could almost see the cogs turning behind her eyes. “They broke in from the roof, right?” Tasha nodded. “Which means that –” Patterson abruptly stood and moved across the room, Tasha being dragged along for the ride. She dug through a storage box at the far end of the room, letting out a quiet laugh when she pulled a laptop from it. 

“If I can get through,” Patterson trailed off again when the laptop booted, and her fingers sped across the keyboard. 

“Not that I’m complaining,” Tasha started, “but let me know if you have any more sudden movements planned.” She rubbed her right shoulder. “You’re going to cause me some serious damage soon.” Patterson didn’t response. “Good chat.” Tasha sighed.  
“Ha!” Patterson shouted suddenly. 

“What?” Tasha asked, taking a step back from the excited agent. 

“I cut off their server access and traced their location inside the building. They’re locked down on the third floor.” Tasha grinned. “Now we just have to get these cuffs off and we’re good to go.” Tasha opened her mouth to respond, but was beaten by the door swinging open. 

Patterson and Tasha jumped taking a few steps backwards, Tasha reflexively reaching for the gun that should’ve been on her hip. Tasha stepped in front of Patterson, and the two held their breath. 

“Tasha?” A voice called out from just behind the door. “Patterson?” Tasha and Patterson glanced at each other. 

“Reade?” Patterson called out cautiously. A moment later, a gun appeared around the door, followed by Reade and Weller. Patterson sighed in relief and hurried towards the two male agents. Tasha followed, mostly due to the cuff still around their wrists. When Patterson moved to hug Reade, Tasha stopped her. 

“Patterson,” she protested, “still attached, remember?” Reade looked down at their cuffed hands and burst out laughing. Tasha frowned at him. “It’s not funny, Ed,” she told him, using her free hand to shove him. “I’m pretty sure she’s dislocated my shoulder.” 

When Reade had finally controlled his laughter, he held up his right hand which until now had remained hidden behind him. 

“Don’t worry,” Kurt said from behind Reade, their cuffed hands coming into view. “They got us too.”

+1. 

“I still can’t pinpoint the exact signal,” Patterson told the team through their earpieces as the car pulled to a stop. “Somewhere within 100 feet of you. I’m working on cleaning the signal up.” 

“Thanks Patterson,” Kurt was in control mode when the team piled out of the car. “Jane, with me, we’ll clear this building.” Kurt pointed to the warehouse on his left. “Reade, Zapata, you two take this one.” Tasha nodded, adjusting the strap of her rifle over her shoulder. “Stay in contact,” Weller called over his shoulder, he and Jane already moving toward their building. 

“Let’s roll,” Reade called to Tasha, who nodded, clicking the safety off on the rifle. Reade led them into the building, and they worked quickly, clearing every room they passed. They reached the end of the hallway, and Reade pointed to his left. Tasha nodded, remaining silent and quietly stepped around the corner She pushed the door open, checking the room. Nodding to Reade that it was clear, they turned to the right side of the hallway. Reade put his hand on the handle and began to push it open, only to freeze when there was a noise from inside. Tasha adjusted her position behind the door, and Reade pushed it open. Hurrying inside, Tasha struggled to see anything as the room was plunged into darkness. 

“Reade,” she whispered, no longer able to see her partner. 

“Here,” he replied. “I can’t see much,” he admitted. Tasha opened her mouth to reply, but heard a noise to her side. Turning that way, she squinted, trying to make out anything. A moment later, there was another noise, closer, and then she felt something collide with her head, and she dropped to the floor. 

“Zapata!” Reade called out, hearing her fall. Before Tasha could reply, she heard another thump, and then passed out. 

LB 

“Zapata,” a voice cracked through the haze in Tasha’s head. “Zapata, wake up,” With a groan, Tasha opened her eyes. 

“Reade?” She asked, waiting for her eyes to focus. “You alright?” She scrubbed hand across her face, immediately pulling it away when she felt something wet. 

“Yeah,” Reade replied. “Got a hell of a headache, but I’m fine.” Tasha’s eyes finally focused on her hand, and she spotted the blood she had just wiped from her head. She raised her hand to find the source, but Reade stopped her. “Don’t touch it,” he told her, pulling her hand away. “You’ve got a big cut, but it doesn’t look too bad.” 

“Did you call Weller?” Tasha asked, sitting up. Reade shook his head. “They took our earpieces.” Tasha noticed her weapons were missing. “And our guns, our vests and our shoes.” When he said it, Tasha realised her feet were only covered only by socks. “They took my shoes, Tasha! I liked those shoes.” 

Despite the situation they were in, Tasha laughed. 

“Calm down, we’ll get them back.” She glanced over to Reade. “Nice socks,” she added, spotting the colourful socks the usually serious agent was wearing. 

Tasha looked over to her partner, and raised her hand to inspect the gash on his head. As her arm moved up, so did Reade’s. Tasha groaned again when she spotted the cuffs on her and Reade’s wrists. “Seriously? Again?” Tasha moaned, shaking the cuffs in a redundant effort to loosen them. 

“Remind me never to hang around with you when there are handcuffs present,” Reade joked. Tasha rolled her eyes. 

“Shut up,” she told him, pushing herself to her feet. “Let’s find a way out of here,” Tasha suggested, after the nausea from her change in position subsided. Reade copied her movements, and they moved over to the doorway. 

“Locked,” Reade tried the door, giving it a shove with his shoulder. Tasha peered around the room, spotting a window. 

“Up there,” she pointed, and their joined hands rose toward the window. They headed over, and Tasha dragged a box over with them. Reade watched with an amused look on his face. “You’re like a foot taller than me,” she told him. “How else do you want me to reach the window.” Reade just shook his head, and Tasha stepped onto the box and they reached up, tugging on the bars. They didn’t budge, and Reade sighed, stepping away. 

“Hey, wait,” she told Reade, spotting something outside the window from her slightly taller position on the box. “I think I can see Weller.” She glanced back to Reade. Find me something so we can break the window and make some noise.” Reade passed her a metal pipe discarded on the floor near his feet, and Tasha fed it through the pipes, breaking the window. Reade pulled himself up on the box next to Tasha, and yelled through the window. 

“Weller, Jane,” he yelled. The two agents turned, looking for the voices. “Weller,” he tried again, and the senior agent finally spotted the two faces peering out of the window. “We need help!” Weller and Jane reacted immediately, jogging towards the building Tasha and Reade were sent to search. 

Reade stepped back down from the box, and helped Tasha down.

“They’re coming,” Reade told her, as they moved toward the door. A moment later, there was a thud outside, and the two agents froze, looking at each other. 

The door swung open, and four armed men stepped inside, rifles aimed at Reade and Tasha. Instinctively, they put their hands up in surrender. 

“On the floor,” they yelled, stepping closer. Tasha glanced at Reade for a moment and the two agents knelt. Two of the armed men moved behind the two agents and shoved them down. They landed awkwardly face down on the floor, Tasha groaning when her head smashed into the hard ground. She felt the end of a rifle pushed into her back, and froze again. Suddenly all hell broke loose when Weller and Jane came in through the door, weapons blazing. Not even a second later, all was silent in the room. 

“You guys good?” Jane asked, helping to pull Tasha and Reade to their feet. Tasha nodded, ignoring the blood she could feel dripping from above her eye. 

“You have good timing,” she told them, after making eye contact with Reade, making sure he was alright. “Want to get these cuffs off us?”


	3. Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times Tasha was sick, and one time she wasn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has taken a very long time to finish... as a result, I couldn't bring myself to read through it again to proof and check formatting, so please let me know if there's something I need to fix. Otherwise, please enjoy! 
> 
> As usual, feel free to message me with any prompts, or if you just want to chat Blindspot!

**1.**

“Tasha?” Reade pushed the door to his partners’ apartment open. “Everything alright Zapata?” Stepping into the apartment, Reade noticed a pile of blankets pushed off the side of the couch, and a glass of water knocked over on the floor beside the coffee table. Walking further into the apartment, Reade called out again. 

“Tasha?” Glancing around the room again, Reade decided to follow the trail of destruction through the apartment. Approaching the bathroom, Reade stopped next to the door, knocking. “Zapata, you in here?” There was no response, so Reade cracked the door open. Peering in, Reade spotted his partner face down, unmoving on the tiles. Reade immediately flung the door open and hurried inside.

 “Tasha,” Reade knelt on the cold bathroom tiles, pulling Tasha into his lap. He patted her cheek, trying to wake her. “Tasha, wake up,” he patted it a few more times, getting a groan in response.

 “Reade?” Tasha croaked, one eye opening, hands curling across her stomach. “What are you doing here?” Reade brushed some hair from her face and smiled.

“We had plans,” he reminded her. “Pizza, beer, and watching the Jets lose.” Tasha’s eyes clenched closed for a moment, and Reade gently stroked her cheek. “Are you alright?” Tasha grimaced.

“I feel like I’ve been shot in the stomach,” Tasha told him, her eyes closing again momentarily. “I’m never eating Indian food again.” Reade shifted slightly, relieving the oncoming feeling of cramping in his legs.

“Did you get it from that place on Amsterdam?” Tasha nodded, eyes still closed. “Even though you got food poisoning from there last time?” After a pause, she nodded again. “Want to tell me why?” Tasha groaned as her stomach cramped.

“Had a date,” she told Reade. “He insisted on it.” Reade just laughed. “Don’t laugh at me,” Tasha whined, “I’m dying.” Reade kept laughing.

 “You’re so dramatic,” he told her, helping Tasha as she pushed herself into a more upright position. “Do you need anything?” Reade asked her after a moment. Tasha shook her head.

“Just leave me alone to die,” she mumbled, trying to ignore the oncoming cramping in her stomach. Reade continued brushing his thumb gently across her cheek, and she leant into his palm, eyes closing.

 “Have you had anything to drink?” He asked suddenly, Tasha’s eyes flicking open. She shook her head, and twisted slightly in a vain attempt to relieve the pain. “You need to stay hydrated, Tasha.” Tasha groaned again.

 “If I drink anything, I’ll throw up again,” Tasha protested as Reade extricated himself from under her and moved to stand up. Reaching for the towel on the rail next to the shower, he folded it and placed it under Tasha’s head, helping her lie down somewhat comfortably.

 “Stay here,” Reade told her, ignoring Tasha’s sarcastic laugh in response. “I’ll be back soon.” Tasha just groaned in response, and let her eyes close, drifting off to sleep.

 Reade walked back through the apartment, grabbing a rag to clear the spilled water. He picked up the blankets and refolded them, dropping them onto the couch. He quickly cleared a path on the floor. Picking out Tasha’s keys from the bowl next to the door, Reade left the apartment, locking the door behind him.

 Reade stuffed his hands into his coat pockets as he hurried down the street to the store. He made his way quickly through the store, picking up bottles of Gatorade, saltine crackers, and a few other plain food items.

 When Reade made it back to Tasha’s apartment, he dropped his purchases on the counter and moved to check on Tasha. Hearing a crash from the vicinity of the bathroom, Reade hurried across the apartment.

 “Tasha,” he sighed as he found her now sprawled on the floor of the hallway. “What are you doing?” Tasha just moaned, making no further effort to move. Reade carefully pulled her to her feet, and with her full weight resting on him, dragged her over to the couch.

 Temporarily ignoring the new gash above her eyebrow, Reade maneuvered Tasha into a mostly seated position before reaching for a bottle of Gatorade.

 “Hey,” he patted Tasha’s cheek again, forcing her to open her eyes. “Drink some of this,” Tasha groaned, but complied, swallowing a few mouthfuls before her eyes fell closed once again.  
  
“’M tired,” Tasha slurred, sinking further into the couch. “Stay?” Tasha asked, blinding reaching for Reade, fingers grazing his nose. Reade nodded, then realising her eyes were closed, grabbing her hand.

 “Of course,” he told her, squeezing her hand. Tasha smiled dopily in response.

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

 “Anytime,” Reade promised, but she was already asleep.

 

* * *

**2.**

“Well, Agent Zapata, your discharge paperwork is all finished, you are all set to go home, if you have someone to stay with.” Tasha nodded at the nurse, ignoring the pounding in her temples. The nurse frowned at Tasha for a moment, but continued. “Here are the painkillers the doctor prescribed, take them as you need them.” Tasha reached out for the offered bag, but her action was intercepted buy another hand. Dropping her hand back to the bed, Tasha looked up at the person that had just walked in.

 “Is there anything else we should know?” The nurse turned to Reade, and offered a sheet of paper.

“Just make sure she doesn’t do anything too energetic for a few days, try and get a lot of rest.” Reade nodded, skim reading the information sheet. “Agent Zapata may experience some dizziness and nausea as a result of the concussion, so keep an eye on her if she’s walking around.” Reade nodded again, and Tasha sighed.

 “Can we stop talking about me now?” Reade placed a hand on Tasha’s shoulder, and the nurse smiled.

 “You are all set to go, Agent Zapata. Feel better soon.” Tasha sat up and slid off the bed, keeping her hands on the bed for a moment as she regained her balance. Closing her eyes as a wave of dizziness hit her, she gripped onto the bed waiting for it to pass.

 “You sure you’re okay to leave?” Reade asked when she re-opened her eyes. Tasha grimaced.

 “I’m not staying here any longer,” she told Reade. “Let’s get out of here.” As Tasha unsteadily started walking, Reade caught her elbow, guiding her to the wheelchair.

“No way,” Tasha told him, stopping mid step. “I’m not getting in that.” Reade rolled his eyes.

“Tasha, you can barely stand, let alone walk out of here. Suck it up for the three minutes it takes to get to the car.” Blinking away another wave of dizziness, Tasha finally nodded and let Reade lead her to the chair. Closing her eyes as she got comfortable, Tasha pinched the bridge of her nose in a vain effort to reduce the incessant throbbing behind her eyes.

Keeping her eyes closed, she trusted Reade to get her to the car. Jumping when she felt a gentle pressure on her shoulder, Tasha’s eyes flew open and she searched around the area frantically.

“Stay calm, Tasha,” Reade reassured her, stepping into her field of view. “We’re at the car.” Tasha’s eyes finally focused, and she blinked a few times, struggling to comprehend. Reade moved to stand in front of her, and offered a hand, which Tasha instinctively took. Gently, Reade pulled her to her feet and sat her down in the passenger seat of the car.

When Reade climbed into the driver’s seat, Tasha rolled her head toward him.

“Not sure how I feel about being in a car, given how I got this concussion.” Reade grinned at her while he pulled out of the parking lot.

“It’s all good,” he told her. “We caught the jerk that was targeting us, we’re safe.” Tasha let her head roll back.

“But Sandstorm is still out there,” Reade glanced at Tasha again for a moment.

“Let’s forget about Sandstorm for a few minutes,” Tasha laughed, and immediately winced when it spiked her headache again.

“Any other day I’d call you crazy for saying that.” Tasha closed her eyes again, trying to ignore the nausea that was rapidly kicking in.

“Tasha, you ok?” Reade half shouted, when he noticed Tasha’s eyes closed.

“Too loud, Reade,” Tasha groaned. “I’m fine.”

“Try and get some sleep,” Reade told Tasha, patting her hand. “We’ve just hit rush hour,” Tasha didn’t even bother replying, just tried to relax into the seat.

* * *

 

“Tasha,” a stabbing pain was making itself known as Tasha was slowly roused back to consciousness. “Tasha, wake up,”

“Whas’ goin’ on?” Tasha slurred, not daring to open her eyes.

“I just need to make sure you’re alive,” Reade whispered, realising Tasha was recoiling from the original volume of his voice. Tasha groaned and rolled onto her side. When she felt a mattress under her, she bolted upright.

“Where am I?” A moment later, the sudden movement caught up with her, and she leant forward resting her head between her knees as her head spun, and the stabbing intensified.

“My apartment,” Reade told her, pushing a glass of water and some pills into her hands. “Take these,” he told her. Tasha followed his instructions and swallowed the pills, passing the water back to Reade. They sat in silence for a few minutes before the painkillers finally kicked in, and Tasha slumped back onto the pillows.

“Do you remember how you got the concussion?” Tasha rolled her head to the side and cracked an eye open sceptically. “It’s on the sheet, I’m just checking your brain is still working,” he grinned cheekily at Tasha. 

“Some jackass decided to start a car chase through the city, and ended up totalling my car.” Tasha rolled her head back down again, before suddenly looking back to Reade, once again, immediately regretting the decision. “Wait,” she asked, slightly panicked. “Is Patterson okay?” Reade nodded reassuringly.

“She’s fine,” Reade promised. “They made her stay the night at the hospital because of her recent history with head injuries, but she’s fine.” Tasha nodded numbly. “Get some more sleep,” Reade pushed Tasha down onto her back and pulled the blankets over her. “Call if you need anything.” Tasha fought to keep her eyes open for a few more moments.

“Reade,” he stopped in the doorway and turned back to his partner. “Are they Star Wars pyjamas?” Reade didn’t answer, just glancing down at the sleep pants he was wearing. “You’re a nerd.” Her eyes finally fluttered closed, and Reade smiled, walking back to his temporary bed on the couch.

* * *

 

**3.**

Patterson heard Tasha coming around the corner before she saw her. 

“Tasha?” A few moments later, the agent stepped through the doors, another sneeze escaping. “Everything alright?” Tasha nodded, quickly wiping her nose and stuffing the tissue back into a pocket. 

“I’m fine,” Tasha sniffed. “It’s dusty down in the archives.” Tasha threw the file she had been sent to retrieve onto Patterson’s desk, dropping into the chair next to her. Sniffing again, Tasha flipped the file open, and the two agents got to work.

Hours later, Tasha and Reade were following a vague lead Patterson had turned up in the archived file.

“Can someone please explain to me why a lead from an archived file means I’m searching through a dumpster at midnight?” Reade laughed up a Tasha from his position sitting on the hood of the car.

“Pretty sure it’s been explained three times now,” Reade started, stretching. “And you’re searching the dumpster because you lost a bet.” Tasha’s response was just a muffled sneeze. Another followed a few seconds later. “Are you sure you’re not sick?” Reade asked.

“Go to hell,” Tasha called back, throwing a rancid banana peel over the edge of the dumpster in the vague direction of her partner. The surprisingly high pitched squeal from the peel landing on her partner was cut off by her third sneeze.

* * *

“FBI,” Tasha called out as their suspect stepped through the doorway. “Put your hands up!” Reade was to her left, gun also raised, pointed at the suspect. The suspect turned slowly, taking in the situation behind him. Tasha felt a tickle in her nose, and she sniffed in an effort to stop the oncoming sneeze.

“Hands up,” Reade repeated Tasha’s earlier sentiment. “Now!” A moment later, Tasha sneezed, and the suspect took the chance to bolt. 

He jumped over the rails, and took off down the street, Tasha and Reade following closely behind him. He rounded a corner into an alleyway, and Tasha slowed as she checked around the corner. After making sure it was clear, she and Reade took off running down the alley, seeing their suspect approaching a dead end. 

Still a few yards behind, they watched as the suspect disappeared behind a dumpster, only to re-emerge seconds later as Tasha and Reade approached. He threw a bag at them, hitting Tasha square on the chest, lawn clippings exploding in her face. Tasha immediately broke out in a sneezing fit.

Meanwhile, Reade had cuffed the suspect, and was dragging him to his feet. Tasha’s eyes were streaming, and she was trying desperately to stop the sneezing.

“You coming?” Reade laughed as he began walking back to the car. Tasha sniffed at him, but followed. Once Reade had the suspect safely in the car, he walked over to where Tasha was standing, head tilted back, trying to keep her nose from running. Still laughing, Reade reached into his pocket and threw his handkerchief at her. Tasha caught it, wrinkling her nose at it.

“I’m not using a dirty handkerchief,” she sniffed at Reade, offering it back to him. He held up a hand, not accepting it.

“I promise, it’s clean.” He moved back to the car. “Please, stop the sneezing before you get in the car.” Tasha frowned at him.

“I’m going to shoot this guy,” Tasha muttered, then sneezed.

* * *

“Patterson?” Tasha stumbled through the door to the lab, sniffing. “You in here?” Barely glancing up from her computer, Patterson waved Tasha over. 

“Here,” she called, eyes glued to the screen. “What’s up?” Tasha attempted to stifle a sneeze, and the resulting noise cause Patterson to finally look up. “Hey,” she said, hurrying across the lab to Tasha. “What’s going on?” Tasha rubbed half-heartedly at her itching eyes.

“Allergies,” she mumbled. “Can I hang out here?” Patterson frowned, eyes flicking back to her screens for a moment. “It’s practically sterile in here,” Tasha told her. “I might finally get a break from sneezing, if just for a while.” Patterson nodded, and ushered Tasha into an empty seat next to her desk. Slumping into the chair like she had the previous day, Tasha folded her arms on the desk and dropped her head onto them. Patterson chuckled as she returned to work, patting Tasha’s back, then returning to her work.

* * *

**4.**  

“He’s headed your way, Zapata,” Jane’s voice came over Tasha’s earpiece, and she shifted slightly in response. Hearing rapidly approaching footsteps, Tasha stepped out from behind her cover.

“FBI,” Tasha called out. “Don’t move,” Tasha heard footsteps moving to her side, and she shifted slightly.

“Zapata, look out!” Reade’s voice didn’t come through the earpiece this time, and Tasha turned in the direction of his voice. Reade was running toward her, following another person, one she didn’t recognise, and who was five yards away from her. Instinctively, Tasha pointed her gun at the man running at her, but she was too slow and he tackled her.

Tasha’s gun went flying, and she hit the ground hard. Before she had regained her bearings, she was dragged to her feet, a forearm around her neck. She struggled for a moment, but after the forearm tightened, she froze. The arm pulled her backwards, and she followed, feet slipping on the damp concrete. Reade and Jane appeared in front of her, weapons drawn, aiming in her direction.

Tasha was pulled backwards again, and Jane and Reade were yelling, and then the grip on her throat was released, and she was falling backwards.

Reaching out backwards as she fell, Tasha tried to turn when she didn’t immediately hit concrete. Twisting, Tasha barely had time to take a breath before she hit the icy river that was rushing up to meet her.

The air escaped her lungs almost as soon as she hit the river, sucked out by the cold black water. The heavy coat she was wearing dragged her deeper, and Tasha struggled out of it, trying to get her head above the water.

Finally getting her arms out of the coat, Tasha’s head broke the water and she coughed, sucking in deep breaths, choking as water splashed into her mouth. Blinking water out of her eyes, she spotted Reade and Jane peering down from the edge of the building, searching for Tasha. She waved an arm at them, regretting it as a small wave crashed over her head and she went under again for a few moments.

Spluttering when she resurfaced, Tasha looked back up at Reade and Jane. Jane was waving, trying to get Tasha’s attention, and then pointed to a small Coast Guard boat headed in her direction. As it approached, the small waves picked up slightly, and Tasha struggled to keep her head out of the water.

When the boat was next to her, a hand reached down and Tasha grabbed it, shivering when the cold air hit her icy skin. She was pulled out of the water and into a sheltered section of the boat, and was immediately wrapped in blankets. Someone asked if she was okay, and Tasha just nodded, too cold to form words.

The boat soon docked at a small jetty, and Tasha was helped from the boat. Clutching the blankets to her shivering frame, she was lead down the jetty to a waiting ambulance. Before she could get inside, Reade caught up to her, stepping in front of her, halting her trance like walking. He carefully placed a hand on each side of her head, forcing her to look up at him.

“Are you okay?” Reade breathed, taking in the details of her face, the blueness of her lips. Tasha nodded, clenching her teeth together to stop them from chattering. Stepping forward, Reade wrapped Tasha in a hug, before letting the Coast Guard help her into the ambulance.

“Weller wants us to take these guys in,” Reade told her, calling out over the paramedics now working on Tasha. “I’ll meet you at the hospital as soon as I can,” he promised, taking one last look before disappearing past the door. Tasha felt something sharp in her forearm, and when she looked down, a bag of something attached to an IV.

“Just to help you warm up,” one of the paramedics told her, patting her hand gently. “When we get you to the hospital, we’ll get you in something warmer.” Tasha nodded again as the paramedic gestured to her soaked clothes. After wrapping another blanket over her, one of the paramedics moved into the front of the ambulance, and Tasha felt the ambulance moving.

When the ambulance arrived at the hospital, and Tasha had been allocated a room, she was helped out of her wet clothes, and given a set of dry scrubs to change into. Still shivering, a nurse helped Tasha back into the hospital bed, and covered her with a dry set of blankets. The nurse disappeared, but returned moments later, offering a mug to Tasha. Tasha accepted gratefully, thanking the nurse as she sipped on the warm water, warming her still numb fingers with the mug.

Tasha had finally started to feel warm when there was a knock at the door. Looking away from the mindless TV show that had been turned on, Tasha smiled when she spotted Reade at the door.

“Hey,” she greeted as he stepped in, noting her duffle bag in his hands.

“How are you feeling?” Tasha shrugged.

“I’ve been better,” she shifted under the blankets, tucking her feet under the loose edge of one. Reade moved further into the room, dropping into the chair near her head, dumping the bag at his feet.

“I brought you some clothes,” he told her. “Patterson and Jane raided your locker,” he reassured her, “and I brought a couple of sweaters, in case you were still cold.” Tasha smiled at him.

 “Well hand one over,” she held a hand out, and Reade leant down to unzip the bag, pulling out a Red Sox sweater and throwing it at her. Catching it easily, Tasha frowned. “Why do you own a Red Sox sweater?” She asked, holding it away from her, nose wrinkled. Reade rolled his eyes, and took it back from her.

Reade pulled another sweater from the duffle bag, this time he hit Tasha in the face with it, and he laughed as he shoved the Red Sox sweater in the bag. Tasha continued talking once she’d pulled the sweater over her head.

“I mean, I have a few problems with you supporting the Red Sox,” she told him, settling under the blankets. “But there’s no way you’re ever catching me in any of their clothing.”

“You’re a Mets fan, Tasha. The Mets suck.” Tasha gasped, mock insulted.

“How dare you,” she replied. Reade opened his mouth to taunt her again, but was interrupted by another knock at the door.

“Agent Zapata,” Tasha and Reade looked to the door, and a familiar doctor stepped in. “Nice to see you again.” He pulled the chart from the end of her bed, and checked the information on the screen near her bed. “Everything is looking good from here,” the doctor finally said, replacing the chart at the foot of the bed. “How are you feeling?” Tasha nodded.

“If I say much better, do I get to go home?” the doctor smiled slightly in response. The doctor nodded.

“If you’re actually feeling better,” the doctor emphasised, “There’s no reason for you to stay.” Tasha grinned and winked at Reade.

“You owe me five bucks.” Reade rolled his eyes, and dug his wallet from his pocket. Pulling out a bill, Reade sighed and slapped it into Tasha’s hand. “Don’t pull that face,” she told him, “this is the first time I’ve won.” The doctor raised an eyebrow at the two of them.

“Running bet,” Reade told him as he put his wallet away. “If she gets out in less than six hours, she wins.” Sighing, the doctor turned to leave.

“I’ll get the paperwork started,” the doctor picked up the chart again, and wrote something down, replacing it on the bed again. “You should be out of here within the hour.” Reade and Tasha both called out their thanks. “Don’t let me see you here again too soon,” he joked as he left.

“You know if that paperwork takes too long, I get my five bucks back, “ Reade told Tasha after a few moments of watching the TV. Without blinking, Tasha pulled a pillow from behind her back and threw it at Reade.

“Not a chance.”

* * *

**5.**

“You know,” Tasha started as Reade pulled the door open. Pushing herself off the nearby wall, Tasha followed Reade into the apartment. “I think we need to find a better hobby.” Tasha dropped the case of beer on the coffee table, and coughed quietly.

“What do you mean,” Reade asked, slightly shocked. “I thought you loved Pizza, Beer and Football?” Tasha grinned, coughing again.

“Oh, I do,” she promised him. “But we need to pick a better team.” Reade frowned. “Come on,” Tasha dropped heavily onto the couch, placing her feet on the table. “The Jets aren’t going to win another Superbowl in the next decade.” Reade sighed.

“I told you I’m not supporting the Giants, I don’t care what you have on me.” Tasha sighed and rolled her head backwards dramatically.

“One day,” she told him, eyes closing briefly. She kept her eyes closed and listened to Reade moving around the kitchen. Hearing the oven door open, she called out across the apartment.

“There better be some chorizo on that pizza,” Reade laughed as he balanced the hot tray.

“Don’t worry, I made your favourite.” Tasha raised an arm and made a fist in silent celebration.

“Just for that I promise not to release any blackmail on you this week.”

Reade walked around the couch, pushing Tasha’s feet off the coffee table.

“And I appreciate that.”

Finally re-opening her eyes and sitting up properly, Reade pushed a plate into Tasha’s hands. She just glared in response.

“Last time, you spilt sauce on my couch and it cost me a fortune to get it cleaned.” Tasha rolled her eyes and deliberately dumped a slice of pizza on her plate.

“Whatever,” Tasha mumbled, taking a bite. “Put the game on already.”

Twenty minutes into the game, the pizza was half finished, the Jets were down 14 points, and Tasha was trying her hardest not to fall asleep.

“Oh come on!” Reade yelled at the TV, watching the players line up. “Don’t throw the ball, run it!” Reade’s yelling jolted Tasha from the edges of sleep. Blinking, she watched as the ball was snapped, and the quarterback threw another interception. Reade grabbed the cushion nearest to him and slammed his face into it.

“I thought you liked watching the Jets,” Tasha mumbled, ignoring the scratch in her throat and the stuffy feeling in her sinuses.

Reade frowned, not looking away from the TV.

“Play some defence!” Tasha winced at Reade’s loud voice. Reade groaned at the TV one more time. As an ad break came on, Reade looked across at Tasha.

“Hey,” he called, trying to get her attention. “You alright?” Tasha blinked, then nodded.

“Yeah,” she told him, trying to ignore the cough that was building up. “I think I’m just tired.” Reade nodded.

“Not a fan of those early morning stakeouts either, huh?” Tasha punched his arm.

“Just because Weller didn’t call you this morning doesn’t mean you’re allowed to brag.” Reade grinned.

“The Jets aren’t going to win this,” Reade told Tasha, patting her hand that had dropped next to him. “You can go home if you want. 

Tasha shook her head, and pushed herself higher up the couch.

“I’ll stay,” she told him, forcing her eyes to stay open. “Not like we have work tomorrow morning.” Reade groaned.

“If you’ve jinxed it, I will never make you pizza again.” Tasha rolled her eyes.

“If I’ve jinxed it?” She repeated. “How old are you, twelve?” Reade threw a cushion at her.

“Shut up and watch the game.”

* * *

“Tasha,” Reade leant across the couch and shook Tasha’s leg, pushing it off the table as he did. Tasha was jerked awake, and she couldn’t avoid the need to cough. Leaning forward, Tasha breathed heavily when the fit had resolved itself. Meanwhile, Reade had poured a glass of water for Tasha, and forced it into her hands. Tasha nodded in thanks, taking a few sips. 

“You sure you’re feeling alright?” Tasha nodded, but Reade frowned at her, not believing her. “Want to crash here tonight?” Tasha coughed once more, then paused. Eyes slowly falling closed, she just nodded.

* * *

“Hey, wake up,” Tasha groaned as she was pulled from the enticing edge of sleep. Not even bothering to open her eyes, Tasha mumbled at Reade. 

“What now?” Her words slurred together nasally as she finally admitted to herself how sick she was.

“Open your eyes,” Reade told her, waiting for her to follow his direction. Sighing again, and regretting it when it trigged another coughing fit, Tasha finally looked up at Reade. Immediately, he offered her a mug and two pills. Not having the energy to argue, Tasha took the pills, and followed them with a few sips of the warm tea from the mug. Eyes starting to slip shut again, Reade put the mug on the coffee table and patted Tasha’s knee.

“Come on,” he said, patting her knee again. “Up you get,” Tasha tiredly took his offered hand and Reade pulled her to her feet. Moving slowly, Reade led the way to his spare room, where he set Tasha on the bed. Slumping down into the pillows, eyes already closed, Tasha felt her shoes, then her socks slipping off her feet. A moment later, a blanket was pulled over her, and Tasha heard footsteps.

“Call if you need anything, okay?” Tasha nodded, a minute movement still almost too much for her exhausted body. A minute later, she was asleep.

Tasha slept restlessly, at one stage waking up and kicking the blanket down, giving up as it tangled around her feet. She moaned when a throbbing headache made itself known, and pulled herself up against the pillow.

Blinking, she looked around the room, kicking again at the blanket. Spotting a glass of water on the bedside table, Tasha reached for it and took a sip, enjoying the cool feeling of the water slipping down her throat. Dropping the now empty glass back on the table, Tasha slumped back against the pillows and slipped back into sleep.

Tasha woke the next morning with a damp post it stuck on her forehead. Pulling it off, Tasha swiped a hand over her face, wiping some of the sweat off. She tried to pull herself more upright, but a wave of dizziness swept over her, and her eyes slammed closed as she leant back into the pillow.

After it had passed, Tasha reopened her eyes, and focused on the post it. Attempting to decipher Reade’s scrawled handwriting, she figured out he had left the apartment, and would be back eventually. He had also been kind enough to leave his laptop with Netflix open on the bedside table.

Reaching for the computer, Tasha settled it across her knees and began scrolling through the available options. Settling on a mindless superhero show she’d seen before, Tasha settled back into the pillows and let the poor dialogue and action scenes lull her back to sleep.

* * *

Sometime later, Tasha was dozing lightly, half listening to whatever episode was playing over Netflix. She vaguely heard movement through the apartment and cracked an eye open, glancing at the doorway. Hearing nothing that required her to move, she rolled her head back to the screen and let her eye fall closed. A moment later, there was a quiet knock at the door. Groaning, Tasha let her head drop onto her shoulder, facing the door.

“Hey,” Reade pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Tasha managed a smile. “How are you feeling?” Tasha sighed and then coughed in response. Reade just laughed.

“What time is it?” Tasha finally asked as Reade walked over and paused the show. He moved the laptop away from the edge of the bed and sat on the edge.

“A little after four,” he told her. Reade dug into his pocket and pulled out Tasha’s phone and handed it to her. Accepting it, Tasha blinked a few times, forcing her eyes to focus on the screen.

“It’s Tuesday?” Tasha suddenly noticed the date the phone was telling her. Pulling herself into a more seated position, Tasha began trying to climb out of the bed.

“Calm down,” Reade told her, gently trying to push her back down. “Weller called last night,” Tasha finally gave up her struggle and settled back on her elbows, half lying down. “The CIA has officially taken over the case, so we’re off for a few days – or at least until Patterson finds a new case for us.” Tasha pulled her elbows out and slowly laid back down. She patted the empty side of the bed next to her.

“Come watch some Netflix with me,” Reade laughed, and stood from his spot on the edge of the bed.

“Let me go get something first,” he told her as he disappeared further into the apartment. Tasha pulled the laptop closer to her, and started scrolling for something else to watch. A few minutes later, Reade reappeared, balancing plates of pizza and two mugs. He expertly maneuvered around the bed, dropping onto the empty side without spilling anything. Tasha just watched, amused.

“So you’ve done that before,” she observed. Reade frowned at her, and passed a mug and a pizza laden plate over.

“Shut up and hit play.”

* * *

 

**+1**

Tasha woke with a groan, immediately curling into a ball, hands wrapping around her stomach. Reaching for her phone, she sent Weller a brief text message before dropping the phone, inhaling sharply when the pain pulsed again. Eventually, Tasha drifted back to sleep, not hearing her phone ringing.

* * *

“Reade, you take Jane, go talk to- ” Jane interrupted Kurt’s instructions.

“Where’s Zapata?” She asked, having already noted the absence of the other female agent when she arrived that morning.

“She’s out sick.” Weller barely paused. “See what you can find out from Peterson. Call me as soon as you get what we need.” Jane and Reade turned to leave, Reade pulling his phone from his pocket and dialled Tasha’s number, then followed Jane to the garage.

“Tasha, it’s Reade.”  

* * *

“Hey,” Tasha croaked. “What’s up?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied, “Weller said you were out sick today. You need anything?” Tasha just groaned, wiping a hand across her face.

“No, I’m fine, I think it’s just food poisoning.”

“Again?” Reade asked, exasperated. “You need to find a new Chinese restaurant.”

Tasha choked out a laugh, clutching at her stomach when it rolled.

“You sure you’re good?” Reade asked again, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“I’m fine,” Tasha reassured him. “I still have some Gatorade and crackers from last time.”

“Alright, well,” Reade started the car, pulling out of the garage. “Let me know.” Tasha hung up the phone, and dropped it.

Groaning, Tasha rolled out of bed, fighting the urge to collapse on the floor. One hand clutching her stomach, Tasha leant heavily against the wall, dragging herself to the bathroom.

Taking longer than it should have, Tasha finally made it in, and flopped heavily onto the toilet. Moving slowly, Tasha reached for the glass by the sink and filled it, taking a small sip. Her stomach recoiled sharply, and Tasha bent over, fighting the urge to vomit. Failing this, Tasha slid off the toiled, pushed the lid up and retched painfully.

When her stomach had calmed down somewhat, Tasha pushed a hand into her side, pushing at the most painful area of her abdomen. Tasha dragged herself back up to the toilet, reaching for the cloth on the sink to wipe her face. Running it under the cold water, Tasha dragged it across her face and neck, ignoring the heavy sweaty feeling that was wiped away.

Forcing herself to her feet, Tasha slumped against the wall, walking even slower than before. Making it to the hallway, Tasha took a few deep breaths, moaning as the pain flared again. Approaching her room, it took every last bit of strength Tasha had to make it to her room, and the effort left her exhausted. Staggering through the doorway, Tasha wobbled the last few steps before she collapsed onto the bed.

* * *

“Weller, we’re heading back to you. Jane’s sending Patterson the file now.” Reade heard the sound of Weller standing up from his desk and moving through the office.

“Good work. Head back to the office and help Patterson get the other files decoded.”

Reade slid his phone back into his pocket and turned to Jane.

“Files are done,” she told him, closing the laptop. “Let’s go.”

“Mind if we make a stop first?” Jane shook her head, and Reade pulled out of the parking lot in the direction of Tasha’s apartment.

* * *

“Tasha,” Reade slid his emergency key for Tasha’s apartment into the lock, pushing the door open. Jane followed behind him, glancing around the apartment.

“Zapata, you here?” Jane had moved through the apartment ahead of Reade, and found Tasha in her room.

“Reade,” she called. “In here.” Reade jogged through the apartment, following Jane’s voice. When he stepped into the room, he spotted Jane kneeling next to the bed, one hand on Tasha’s shoulders, trying to wake her.

“Tasha,” she murmured, “Tasha, wake up.” Not getting any response, Jane rolled the unconscious agent to her side.

“Reade, she’s got a fever.” Jane and Reade glanced at each other briefly, then sprung into action. Jane pulled Tasha into a seated position, and Reade helped her pull Tasha’s sweater off. As they pulled Tasha’s right arm up, she moaned, eyes flicking open. Jane finally pulled the sweater over Tasha’s head, and she looked around, eyes unfocused.

“Tasha,” Reade sat on the edge of the bed, directly in Tasha’s line of vision. “What’s going on?” Tasha didn’t respond, but as Jane set her against the pillows, she curled as best she could into a ball.

“I don’t think this is food poisoning,” Jane told Reade, who shook his head.

“Let’s get her to the car,” Reade said, standing up. “We need to get her to the hospital.” Jane nodded, and the two agents somehow managed to pull Tasha to her feet. Leaning heavily against Jane, the three stumbled back to the car. Laying Tasha carefully in the back seat, Reade and Jane moved to the front of the car, and Reade sped off, Jane giving him directions to the nearest hospital as he went.

* * *

Tasha blinked a few times, swallowing against the dry feeling in her mouth. Cracking one eye open, Tasha peered around the room. Shifting slightly, Tasha groaned at a pinching feeling in her side. Tasha tried to push herself up to get a better look at the cause of this pain, but she was stopped by a hand on her forearm.

Tasha rolled her head to look at the owner of the hand, not making the connection between the tattoos and their owner.

“Hey,” Jane greeted when Tasha finally looked up. “You’re in the hospital,” she told the disoriented agent. “You had appendicitis, they had to put you under and take it out.” Tasha blinked slowly.

“Water,” she croaked, struggling with the dryness of her mouth. Jane passed her a cup, and Tasha took a few sips. When Jane had replaced the cup, she continued talking.

“Reade was here all night,” she told Tasha. “Kurt sent him home, he needed a shower and some coffee.” Tasha nodded.

“Did we work out the case?” Jane nodded. “Patterson’s program cracked it just in time. Crisis averted,” Jane joked, and Tasha cracked a smile. “How are you feeling?” Tasha grinned.

“Oh, excellent,” she winked. “When can we bust out of here?”

“You’ve been out of surgery for less than three hours, so you’ve got a while to go,” Reade said from the door, leaning against the frame, a paper cup of coffee in his hand. Tasha rolled her eyes, and looked back to Jane.

“He’s a spoil sport,” Jane assured her in a loud whisper. “We’ll break you out soon enough.”

“There’s no way I’m leaving you two alone until I’ve seen those discharge papers,” Tasha rolled her eyes again, and Reade pushed off the doorway, stepping fully into the room. Tasha stifled a yawn, and Jane stood up.

“You should get some more rest,” she told Tasha. “I’ll call Weller and tell him you’re alive.” Tasha snorted, and Jane patted her forearm. “I’ll be back in a while.” Tasha waved at Jane’s retreating form.

“So,” Tasha turned to Reade, fighting the pull of sleep. “Chinese for dinner?” Reade choked on his coffee, and Tasha grinned, finally letting her eyes slip closed.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a bit more written for the concussion chapter, so if anyone wants to read it, let me know and I might publish it.

**Author's Note:**

> I was reading something the other day, and it gave me an idea for a Reade/Zapata fic. Still can't figure out if I ship them or like them as friends, so this was interesting to write. I do enjoy writing these guys though, so let me know either by review or PM if you have any prompts.
> 
> Any mistakes are mine, I didn't use a program with a spell checker (and kinda avoided proof reading), which was probably not my best decision ever. Let me know if you find them, and I'll fix it up :) 
> 
> No particular time period these are set in... Maybe in a universe without Sandstorm? This initally started off as a fun idea and quickly turned into me writing just about every cliche possible! Also angst and whump is clearly my thing.


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